


Rip Your Heart Out and Profess Unto Me

by Rosegoldeneyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x03 coda, Angst, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Coda, Dean is a dick, Destiel breakup, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), I'll fix it later, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Sam is a Saint, Sorry Not Sorry, Unhappy Ending, cas leaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosegoldeneyes/pseuds/Rosegoldeneyes
Summary: There is nothing left to say.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 88





	Rip Your Heart Out and Profess Unto Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potterswinchesters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potterswinchesters/gifts).

> As always, thank you to my wonderful beta @potterswinchesters for not only giving me the idea for this, but yelling at me until I followed through with it.

He is almost tempted to take the Impala.

The first time Dean referred to the behemoth as “Baby,” it confused Castiel. A baby was the name for a human infant that has not reached toddlerhood. It did not, as far as he knew, refer to an automobile. 

But then Dean called him “Cas,” and he understood. The hunter’s language was colloquialisms and references, acronyms, and most importantly, nicknames. Sammy. Bobby, instead of Robert.

Cas.

While he’s made little progress with the former—he still doesn’t understand why, on every ghost hunt, Dean tells Sam, “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts”—he does understand nicknames. They’re a way to refer to somebody you care about. Yes, Dean referred to the archangels as “Mikey” and “Raphie,” but Castiel understood the tonal difference. The way Cas’s nickname rolls across Dean’s tongue like his car on an open highway is miles away from the way Dean bites out his superior’s names. 

Years later—even a whole decade later—he is still Cas. Through betrayals and deaths on both their parts, he has remained  _ Cas _ . Just like Sam remains Sammy, and the rare mentions of Robert remain Bobby. 

It has since been clarified that “Sunshine” was not a true nickname. When Sam explained it to Castiel one day, he struggled to contain his laughter.

He is almost tempted to take Baby. To hotwire her and rip her away from Dean. Rip Dean’s heart out, metaphorically speaking. But it is a sick sort of poetic justice to leave Dean just the way he started: Sam, Dean, and Baby against the world.

Besides, it’s what Dean wants.

The bunker door rolls open, and he knows that the rev of his truck can be heard from the library. He knows that Dean can hear as he drives away. He knows that Dean will not care. 

-

Chicago is usually the type of place he’d avoid, if possible. The “bustle and hustle” of a big city reminds him too much of his grace being surrounded by the Leviathans, writhing in constant, noisy chaos. It’s why he prefers the silence of the bunker, a place of peace. Even his fight with Dean under the influence of the Mark of Cain in the library didn’t shatter the tranquility of the place. Castiel suppresses a sad smile as he remembers the feeling of bleeding out on the floor. Somehow, that pain was nothing compared to how Dean destroyed him yet again just a few hours ago. 

He pulls into a Motel 6, a favored classic of the Winchesters. The interaction with the clerk is a blur of pleasantries and the exchanging of payment. When locking his car, he sees a post office across the street.

He realizes that he lied to Dean back at the bunker. There is one thing left to say. 

Castiel flips up the lapels of his trench coat, a habit he picked up from watching the humans do it in strong winds like this. With his failing grace, the wind bites into his exposed skin. 

He crosses the street without looking, the blare of an annoyed horn barely registering. His sole focus is on the post office spilling warm yellow light onto the sidewalk in front. The gust of warm air is a relief as Castiel steps inside. There is stationary available to buy with the last of his ill-earned cash—Sam’s, actually. Dean never thought about giving Castiel money. 

One of the pads of paper has a feather on the top of it, and he buys it without a second thought, along with a fountain pen. He sits in a chair and perches the paper awkwardly on his knee. The pen feels foreign in his hands. Learning to write had been somewhat of a humiliating experience. Dean had ridiculed him, saying that his “angel mojo” should take care of it. It was Sam who’d sat him down and patiently shown him how to hold a pencil with his vessel’s hands.

Indeed, there is one more thing to say. And Castiel is going to say it with his shaky, imperfect letters of the English lexicon. 

_ Dean, _

_ If you’re never going to talk to me again, that’s okay. But I must reminisce about the times when it was not so. _

_ You once told me to talk to you. I confessed my desire to die and you fell silent, permanently. Is that why you’re afraid? Why you always push me away when I try to reach out? Are you frightened of hearing me whisper my sins to you, hearing all the ways I’ve failed time and time again? The mere fact of me being flawed shakes you to your core, Dean. But I am as human as you and Sam. I once gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was an adjustment to your view of the beautiful, tragic world. But an adjustment period is not 11 years of belittling my every mistake. Your mother was scared of me too, you know. What’s the phrase… ‘The fig does not fall far from the tree?’ But even she realized I was always there for you. In your eyes, I was a savior, a divine guardian. In mine, I was your friend. _

_ I once promised you that good things do happen, Dean. I believe that was the first lie I ever told to you.  _

_ Although, that isn’t quite true. The first lie I ever told was the ‘I Love You’ I whispered to your soul as I raised you from Perdition.  _

_ —For the last time, Cas.  _

**Author's Note:**

> I'm strapping back on my clown nose because of the Jenmish panel at DC'19, so look forward to more happy destiel fics in the future.


End file.
